Scarlet Treasures
by Nidhoegg
Summary: A simple misunderstanding throws Jane into unknown waters. And these waters are deep, dangerous and might just be deadly...
1. Prologue: Bloody Sunset

**A/N: **Hello! I'm back from my week at my relatives'. I had a great time! And.... I come bearing not one, but two new stories. This is going to be an adventure, the other a more humorous friendship thingy. And, yes, I know that this chapter is incredibly short, but it's supposed to be some kind of appetizer. Hope you like it, the other story will be started soon. (Just have to type down my hand-written stuff....)

Tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome as well.

**Thanks:** A big fat **thank you** to all my reviewers from Flashing Crimson. You guys make me so happy! And creative.... ^^

**Disclaimer: **No money made.

**Warning: **There might be some blood and gore, nothing graphic, really. Still, no one should have to say I didn't warn you....

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**Prologue: Bloody Sunset**

Jane sighed as the door fell closed behind him. It were days like this that he wondered just what he had done right to earn his skills and keen perception.

The last case had been difficult, complex and intertwined, even he had to admit as much. But in the end he had gotten the killer, a victory.

And who cared that while playing his aces, he had maybe insulted a grieving brother, calling him a stalker and pervert. He **was**, so what? Jane had only stated the truth.

He wandered slowly into his kitchen. A nice hot cup of tea was needed. A small celebration, one more crime avenged as much as humanly possible.

Scarlet light filtered through the large windows of his once so welcoming home.

Somehow it was fitting, he thought. A blood red sunset for a day on which justice came out the winner.

A smirk stole across his lips. How very philosophical of him.

"Senor Patrice?"

Jane shot around, all thoughts on the sunset wiped from his mind.

But all he got was a glimpse at a thin Hispanic man in a dark suit. Then pain shot through his head and the crimson light of day made way for the deepest darkness of mind.

**One week earlier....**

It was hot. Unbearable so.

Sweat clung to his skin, burnt in his wounds.

His captors only smiled. Spanish resounded in the old wooden barn, penetrating his aching head like a knife.

"Where is it, huh?"

But he stayed silent. Although he knew he would break soon.

His only hope were his colleagues. Patricia, El and Janey would hide. They would get away and their secret would die with him. And he would definitely die, that was for sure.

"I see, our guest tries to be a hero", the man sneered in his face. "He wants to protect his little friends. But he should know that I will find his friends. And I will hurt them."

The man stopped, as if contemplating something.

"Do you want to know what I will do with them?"

He tried to shake his head, but found himself too weak.

"You know what, I will show you."

What followed was too gruesome and inhumane to be put into words. But it continued on for hours and the question remained the same.

Over and over.

"Tell me now, my friend? Or should we continue our little game?"

In the end he couldn't discern reality from imagination. He wasn't a living being anymore, he was only agony.

And in his suffering his mind pleaded with him to make it stop, even going as far as distorting the facts for him. To make the ultimate betrayal easier.

He was dying. It was clear to everyone present.

"Last chance, my friend. Tell me!"

And he shattered. With a voice broken and almost inaudible, he muttered the words that would sentence his friends to a slow and painful death.

"Patrice....... Jane....."

...._forgive me...._

Blissful nothing claimed him, ending his misery once and for all.

But at the same time starting another's.

The man smiled. He had already found out about Mr. Grey, but there had to be more involved.

Patrice Jane. He was sure that they would soon make acquaintance.

Red sunlight filtered into the barn.


	2. Mister Grey

**A/N: **lol I spent almost the whole day typing.... And, yea, not much to say about this chapter. Hope you like it. And please, tell me what you think.

**Thanks** to all my lovely, wonderful and totally awesome reviewers! You make my day.

**Special thanks** to Sophie Fatale who kindly pointed out my mitake in spelling _senor_. It's corrected now, although I don't have a key to get the wave over the n, so please, just read it as if it were there...

**Disclaimer: **No money made.

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**1. Mister Grey**

**Present time....**

He felt horrible. His head was spinning and it felt as if some rodent had crawled into his mouth to die there. In addition, he couldn't really remember anything from the day before....

Yet, Jane doubted it was a hangover he was suffering from. Because, well, he didn't get hangovers. Drinking had been a problem, especially in the first few weeks after his family's murder, but never in that time had he had to bear the usual aftereffects.

So, what was going on now?

The other possibility was that he had caught a cold or something. It was more realistic, although Lisbon seemed to think he was too handsome for the common bugs.

The thought made him smile slightly. Oh, it would be almost worth getting sick, if it meant the dark-haired agent might fuss a bit over him. But he wasn't allowed to hang onto his imagination for long.

"Mister?"

A decidedly male voice asked a bit timidly.

What in god's name was another man doing in his house?! What was anybody doing in his house?!

Hm, but perhaps he had fallen asleep on his CBI sofa....

"Senor? Mister!"

The voice got more and more irritating.

Then a hand touched his shoulder and even had the audacity to shake him.

Hadn't the movement caused spikes of pain to shoot through his brain, Jane would so have given the other man a piece of mind.

Instead, a pained moan escaped his lips and he dearly hoped the stranger would take the hint and stop shaking him.

He didn't.

Seriously considering just trying to go back to sleep, his agonized head quickly made it clear that there was no sleep in sight as long as the shaking continued.

At the same time, another fact registered. A troubling one.

He was lying in hard ground. Earthly smell made itself known to his fumbled mind and he had to realize that maybe the situation was in fact very much different from what he had guessed.

"Mister, wake up!"

Jane wanted to hit the idiot who dared to be there. He was awake! He just hadn't opened his eyes yet.

"Mister!"

Had his body complied, Patrick would have sighed exasperatedly. As it was he let it slide for now and instead concentrated on lifting his leaden eyelids.

He was greeted by the blurred image of a face much too close to his own. Tiredly lifting an arm he tried to push the stranger away and for once the other took the hint and leant back a bit.

Jane for his part now tried to get his vision to clear up, blinking lazily at nothing, until finally things got sharper and the world stopped its ride on the merry-go-round.

And for the first time since waking up, the blonde could take in his surroundings. Admittedly, there wasn't much there to take in, but one had to work with what he got.

The owner of the voice turned out to be young man who couldn't be much older than 25. A kid, really. Wavy black hair that could use a nice hair-cut, framed a boyish tan face from which two hazel eyes carefully studied Jane's own.

After a moment in which the two only stared openly at one another, the kid broke the contact, averting his eyes. Patrick therefore concluded that the other wasn't a danger to him. At least for the time being.

So, he let his eyes wander further, not liking what they told him.

They, he and the boy, were in a small rectangular room. Old wooden planks made up the walls and through the slits fell hazy sunlight. His assumption that they were locked in an old barn or shack somewhere outside Sacramento was partly confirmed by the way the only door had been chained and sealed. They wouldn't be getting out there without someone helping on the other side of the door. Unlikely.

They were in a rural area, judged by the hard soil on which he still lay on his side. Time to sit up.

Slowly, anticipating his body's protest, the CBI consultant aligned his arms under him and pushed.

Nausea swept over him and for a moment he had to stop and close his eyes. When he opened them again, he could feel the other's eyes on him.

"You might want to stay put for a while", he stated quietly, shrugging slightly. "You were out quite some time."

Jane didn't answer, just gave him a tight smile and fought the rest of the way up into a sitting position.

The amount of strength this little task had cost him, told him that whatever had happened, he hadn't gone into this barn willingly.

It irked him that he couldn't remember. But perhaps the boy could help him with this.

"What's your name?", he wanted to ask, but he only croaked and had to cough.

The kid shook his head apologetically, got up from the ground and handed him an unlabelled bottle of water. God only knew where he had kept it before.

"Sorry, man. Here."

Grateful, but also a bit skeptical Jane took it from him and relished in the feeling of cold, soothing liquid running down his throat. After a few sips, he put the bottle down, not knowing for how long it would have to suffice them.

Then he tried again.

"Who are you?"

The boy frowned, but after a moment he shrugged again.

"El."

Now it was Jane's turn to frown.

"That's all? El?"

The other sighed, cocking his head.

"You first. What's your name?"

He thought about not answering. Who knew, perhaps the harmless looking kid was a cold-blooded psychopath. But his skills told him differently. The other was only another unfortunate captive. And he wouldn't find out anything if he didn't give a bit information himself.

"Patrick Jane."

He hadn't expected the reaction he got. The boy's eyes got wide as saucers and after seconds of disbelief, he suddenly started to laugh hysterically.

Jane stared at the gasping man, bending over at the waist and holding his shaking body. Had he said something wrong? In fact, the blonde was used to quite a spectrum of reactions to his words, but never had someone erupted in laughter just because he had stated his name.

The fit went on for minutes and slowly but surely, Patrick became highly unnerved by the immature young man. Finally, now panting for air, he calmed down, shaking his head.

"Man, sorry. I - I just. I mean...sorry."

He took a few deep breaths, by now seriously trying the older man's patience. Patrick was waiting for an explanation.

"Ah, guess I should tell you what this was all about, huh?"

A pointed glare was all El received.

"Erm, well. First, my full name is Elena Grey."

Now it was Jane who had to fight a grin. Parents who gave their children names like that should be sued.

"And I know, it's a stupid name, but by mum wanted a daughter really, really bad, okay? Good. Now, how to start...?", he muttered.

"How about the beginning?", the blonde asked a bit acidly.

"Eh, yea, might be a good idea. So... Well, we were a team of four, me, Carlos, Patricia and Jane."

"A team?", Patrick required, a bad feeling having spread in his gut at the names of the two female _team members_.

"Yea. I'm an archeologist. An adventurer, you know? Like Indiana Jones."

The situation was slowly getting worse, in Jane's eyes. El - now he could understand the usage of a short form - really was a kid, young, delusional and naive. Not the partner of choice should this turn into a desperate situation.

At least they were in California. Lisbon and the others would find them, free them and then he could have a nice long talk with the kid about fiction and reality.

"Anyway", El continued, "I was the specialist for ruins and stuff, Carlos was the pathfinder, Jane was our main contact and Patricia stayed at home base, taking care of the financial issues."

He stopped and took a deep breath, all excited youthfulness suddenly wiped away.

"And then we found something."

For a moment it was silent.

"Erm", Jane started, puzzled by the deflated look of his forced companion, "I'm no expert, but isn't that the aim of archeology?"

Grey snorted.

"Yea, but you don't exactly plan on finding a mafia boss's gold chamber, so to say."

"Mafia?"

Oh, this was just peachy! Lisbon would so rip him a new one when she had freed him.

"Oh yea. Eduardo LaCruz. Supposed to be connected to a mighty Mexican cartel, but I don't know much about that stuff. I can tell you only what I know."

"Okay, continue."

"So, we found a large amount of gold, money and drugs. And, hey, how were we supposed to know it was a mafia hide-out?!"

Jane had to suppress a groan. He knew what was coming.

"And you took it", he concluded, dearly hoping that the kid and his friends hadn't been so stupid. He was disappointed.

"Some, yes. We went back to Iquitos and - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop. You went where?"

El looked a bit startled at the sudden outburst, but Jane knew he must have heard wrong.

"We went back to Iquitos."

"Iquitos is in Peru."

"Yeeees?", the kid now stared at him doubtfully.

"We are in California. Good old America."

"Oh", he stuttered, seeming thrown by the blonde's statement. "Erm, Patrick? I'm sorry, but we are most certainly not in Cali. We are in Peru."

Jane stared at the kid in utter disbelief. They **were** in California! They had to be!

"You're kidding, right?", he pressed out, ignoring how totally un-Jane like his voice sounded.

Grey slowly shook his head.

"Sorry..."

"But...", the consultant fell silent. The news hit him like a sucker-punch by Ali. Thousand questions flitted through his head, all of them demanding answers. And mixed into the white-noise, skewed memories were falling into place.

It took minutes, but finally he managed to pick out the most pressing ones.

"How? I mean..... I was in Sacramento, California. I was taken from my house. My house in California. Tell me, how is it possible to get knocked out in Sacramento and wake up in a shack in Peru?! Except you want to tell me that Santa Claus has kidnapped me I see no possible way how-"

He stopped, suddenly wary.

"El? What day is it?"

The kid swallowed.

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday....", Jane squeaked.

They had closed the case Saturday evening. He had gone home, wanted to make himself a tea. A man in black had attacked and obviously taken him. Taken him on Saturday!

He was missing two whole days!!!

"Patrick?"

He only nodded, for the first time in the last five years feeling completely lost.

There was a reason why he had never been traveling much outside the USA. He liked it there. He needed civilization. Needed a functioning shower, easy access to meals and clean asphalted streets. He was a showbiz guy, for god's sake! Not one of those men who trudged through the wilderness, slept on the muddy earth and ate what was unfortunate enough to run in front of the barrel of their gun.

And yet....

"Patrick, I....well, I should perhaps tell you why you're here", he grinned a bit sheepishly, "and why I had that hysteric fit. I just couldn't believe it..."

Jane took a moment to compose himself as much as possible, before giving the kid a tight nod.

"Spill."

"Ah, yea, well....I told you about our team already, right? So, the night we had returned to Iquitos, Carlos Huarez, our pathfinder was kidnapped by LaCruz's men. They-They tortured him and", he swallowed thickly, "and Carlos must have told them about me and the others."

He looked at the blonde with big puppy dog eyes.

"But I have nothing to do with your team!"

"I know! But..... I can only guess, but Carlos always said Patrice to Patricia and when he cracked, I don't know, maybe LaCruz thought there couldn't be women involved or he just plain got it all wrong and, yea..."

_Breathe, Patrick, breathe_, the curly-head instructed himself.

First he learned that he was in the middle of freaking nowhere and then the kid told him that it was all a big fat mistake! It was a lot to take in.

And still, it was also ironic in a way. Usually, Jane had a talent for getting himself in trouble. Now, though, as he faced the probably biggest trouble he had gotten into, he had done nothing at all, except for bearing the wrong name. Fate was sure getting a buzz out of this.

**In the meantime....**

The CBI headquarters were bustling with activity. Every available agent had been assigned, and still there was nothing useful.

Lead agent Teresa Lisbon hadn't slept in over 48 hours. She hadn't had time.

It had all happened so unexpected. They had closed the case! Everything had been fine.

Her gaze fell on the picture of a brightly smiling consultant pinned at the top of their mind map. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He was supposed to be here, lying on his couch and being his usual pain-in-the-ass, smart-mouthed self.

The agent lowered her head, remembering.

They had planned to meet Sunday morning for breakfast. Celebrating that they closed that horrible case at last. Just the team, a good time together.

Lisbon had been there a bit earlier, but it hadn't bothered her in the least. She had chosen a table at one of the windows and sat down to wait. Cho had arrived exactly on time, not a second earlier, none later. Shortly after, Van Pelt had strolled in, followed by Rigsby.

They had sat together, chatting easily. They had thought that Jane wouldn't be too late either, seeing as the meeting wasn't work-related. But when he didn't show, they hadn't thought much about it.

At first.

Minutes had ticked by, half an hour of waiting turning into an hour. And slowly, they had been getting worried.

It wasn't like their consultant to come **this** late!

So, Lisbon had called his cell, but he had switched it off. And now they had been really worried. Patrick Jane never switched his cell phone off!

After ten more minutes, they had finally decided to drive over to his house.

Lisbon swallowed as the memory rose in her mind.

She would never be able to forget the emotions running through her at the time, threatening to suffocate her.

When they had arrived at the large estate, they had immediately noticed the open front door.

There hadn't been many occasions when the small senior agent had been so scared. Unbidden, her mind had produced images of stab wounds and a blood red smile on the wall.

None of them had wanted to move in, yet, putting aside their personal anxiety, they had let their training take over.

They had entered the house.

Lisbon softly shook her head, smiling humorless while thinking back.

He hadn't been there. All they had found were a few red drops on the otherwise clean kitchen tiles.

But Patrick Jane had been gone.

Forensics had come afterwards and confirmed their findings. Blood and a few curly blonde hairs.

And after five hours of meticulous search, various vain phone calls and a conversation with the General Attorney, CBI consultant Patrick Jane had been declared MIA.

It had then come to a shouting match between Lisbon and Minelli that would provide the office with gossip for weeks to come, but afterwards the dark-haired woman and her team had been allowed to lead the investigation.

Since then they had made no progress.

Unfortunately, Jane had a very long list of possible enemies, starting with the brother of their victim from their last case to a Russian mob leader, furious about a certain stolen painting.

Yet, they had tried to question every one of them, but there was no evidence, except the reasonable theory that someone had knocked the blonde over the head and dragged him away. But that wasn't helping much. It only excluded persons not bodily able to overpower their consultant.

But that was the keyword: consultant. Jane wasn't a trained agent, his only weapon, his quick mouth, had proved once and again to cause more trouble than good.

What Lisbon and the others really craved to know was where he had been taken. The rest they could deal with later.

The agent sighed. So many other agencies had assigned help to their case and still they had nothing useful.

But she wouldn't give up! She would not let him disappear just like that. Not when she had never got a chance to tell him how much he meant to her.

Lisbon's gaze again settled on glacier blue eyes, frozen by a photo and a whisper fell from her lips.

"Jane, where are you...?"


	3. Brown boards breaking

**A/N: **Hi there! I'm so very sorry for the delay, but my life has been insanely busy. Anyway, this is the next chapter of Scarlet Treasures. Hope you like it and please, tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer: **No money made.

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**2. Brown boards breaking**

Silence had stretched between them over the past few minutes. Jane tried hard to figure out just what exactly was happening to him and how he might get out of it.

So far, all he really had come up with was that a phone would be a very welcomed help. Sadly, both he and El were lacking such since a thorough search by LaCruz's goons.

It still was so..... so unbelievable ridiculous! He had gotten himself in so many dangerous situations that he had lost count of the times someone had tried to kill him. But now he had done nothing! Nothing at all! It was just unfair!

The blonde huffed, causing the kid to look up briefly. Grey was giving the older man space, knowing that it had to be hard to find oneself in such a situation.

"Patrick?", he finally voiced quietly.

Blue eyes focused on the boy. He grunted slightly in response.

"I", he stopped, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."

Jane frowned, tempted to utter an irritated _you better be_ but he didn't. Knowing it wasn't fair to kick a man already lying.

"Not your fault."

A small smile answered him, but was quickly wiped away as commotion could be heard from outside the old wooden door. Someone was coming.

Slowly getting up on his feet, fighting the vertigo and telling himself to restrain his tongue for once in his life, the consultant turned towards the door, curious, yet nervous about what or who was going to step through it.

Grey stood up, too, swallowing hard, eyes fixed on the old brass knob.

Footsteps approached, stopping just outside their prison. A key was turned, chains moved.

The universe seemed to hold its breath as the door slowly swung inward.

Jane's mind was going at the speed of light, taking in every little detail, from the dust raised by the movement to the black hairs on their visitor's Gorilla-like arms.

The blonde forced himself to stay put and not take a step back at the sight before him.

Murky daylight filtered in around the shape of a man whose body filled out the whole doorway. Had it been another situation, Patrick would have laughed at the guy, qualifying him as an all brawns, no brain type of person.

But then, how much brain did you need to rip a defenceless CBI consultant into pieces? Literally.

The muscle man stepped forward, letting light illuminate his features and giving the two captives a first glance of him.

He was huge. Tan skin covering broad shoulders of pure strength. Dark, small eyes stared out of a rectangular face with a prominent jaw and bald head. A neck seemed to be missing, causing the man to look even more like an angry bull.

Only a tank top and military pants were hiding the well-trained body under fabric, but it wasn't helping with the danger radiated from the walking testosterone. A tattoo showing a snake and something else wound its way up to his temple, shifting slightly as he started to speak.

"He wants to see you", the man stated in broken English.

"Who wants to see us?", Jane asked, his voice showing more boldness than he felt.

But the goon only grunted and took another step forward.

And suddenly, just like that, Jane had an idea. A plan to get away. Okay, so maybe it wasn't much of a plan, bordering more on desperate madness, but what did he have to lose?

He knew nothing about this mess, El and his little friends had gotten into. He hadn't been able to learn anything of value, so he also couldn't spill information. And even if he had information, these guys wouldn't just let him walk away.

No, he couldn't face this big ape's boss, not if he wanted to see another day. If he was led away by the baboon now, there would be no more chance, of that he was sure.

All this flitted through his head in a split second. But the time was enough to make up his mind. Now or never.

The man was taking another step closer, but his pace was far too slow for what Jane needed him to do. He would have to pull out a red rag for this bull.

Throwing sanity to wind, the blonde took on a daring stance and put on his most irritating smirk.

"And I had thought your master would be more of a man. But I see he prefers to send his little lap dog."

The words didn't miss their aim and the man's cheeks took on a darker color, his brows furrowing in anger. But it wasn't enough.

"What? You're too stupid to talk?"

A deep feral growl answered him and it took all he had to keep up the cocky facade.

"Tell me, big guy, are you nice little doggie? Do you bend to your master's every whim and wish? But maybe you like being used and-"

And that did it. The by now dark-red man exploded in a scream of rage and charged at the blonde. Grey gasped, having watched the conversation with both horror and awe.

Patrick on the other hand, almost breathed a sigh of relief. Once more it had been proved that guys like this had a very low aggression tolerance.

The human bull kept coming towards him, rage distorting his features and Jane felt like faltering. But he stayed put, he had to.

Up until the very last moment.

He had never been a fighter, always leaving the hand-to-hand stuff to the agents. But from time to time, when cases were rare and few between, Rigsby or the others had showed him one movement or the other.

And although some bantering among colleagues and friends could never be compared to a real-life situation, it was all Jane could use now.

The guy was only a breath away, fist ready to strike, furious elation at the inflicted pain already visible in his face.

It was this moment the consultant made his move.

For once ignoring his mind, concentrating only on his body, Jane stepped out of the way, bringing up his foot between the other's ankles in one fluid motion.

It didn't go down as graceful as he had hoped, searing pain shooting up his leg as the pounds of furious flesh hit it straight-on.

But it worked.

The man stumbled, his forward motion strengthening the effect to a maximum.

Trying to catch his footing again, he raced on towards the shack's wall.

Time seemed to slow down, both Jane and Grey watching in paralyzed wonder as the huge body slammed into the wooden confines of their prison.

There was a screeching and cracking sound, unnaturally loud to their ears.

The pained yell of the outraged man mixing into the noise.

The whole scene seemed to take ages, but in reality it was only a few seconds.

Tricked by one former psychic, the goon was now tearing a large escape into their prison.

Wooden boards broke under the pressure and with flailing arms the man ran right through the wall, leaving a gaping hole.

It took a moment to register, but when it did, Jane launched into action.

He blindly grabbed the kid's hand and took off. There would be time to face his recent insanity later on. At least, he dearly hoped there would be.

Together, he and El tumbled through the hole into the open. Patrick was leading the way, without the slightest idea where they were going.

He didn't think long about which way might be best. And honestly, he wouldn't have been able to do so. His heart was trying to leap out of his throat and tunnel-vision guided his natural flight-instinct.

Vaguely he noticed other buildings, more modern ones and some that could at most be described as dog sheds. There was also movement and sound, both spurring on their desperate race.

When the first bullet zipped past his left ear, Jane didn't even flinch. Pure instinct had taken over, so he only ducked and sped up as fast as possible.

His ankle was screaming at him, twisted by his stunt with the goon, but the blonde was running on. Adrenaline was causing his blood to sing in his ear, making it impossible to distinguish the various pops from guns and rifles or the whooshing noise the bullets made flying past.

Then finally the blurred sight of his peripheral vision changed from beige and grey building and hard ground to deep green colors.

They had reached a tree line. And that meant they had reached cover.

Yelling could be heard from behind them, but Jane ignored it.

He kept running, dragging Grey along with an iron grip on the younger man's wrist.

They were whizzing past thick tree trunks, running deeper and deeper into what seemed to be a forest.

But it all didn't matter for the blonde. The only order going from brain to muscles was _RUN!_ which he followed blindly.

It was only when the underbrush grew thicker that a viciously hidden branch brought the consultant to the ground in one tangled mess of nature and limbs.

El was also pulled into the bushes, but he was mindful enough of their suddenly changed situation and quickly clamped his hand over the older man's mouth, suffocating the surprised yelp that could have very well betrayed their position.

He left his hand where it was for a moment before he could be sure that Patrick was back to himself.

A few tense seconds later, Jane felt he could think again and pushed the youngster's hand away.

His ankle was throbbing painfully, making it known that it didn't approve of their crazy escape.

Which brought another question to his mind.

Where the hell where they?!

/ ~~~~~~ \

The CBI office in Sacramento, California was bustling with activity. Yet, a feeling of emptiness lay over the building like a thick blanket.

Something was missing. Or better, someone was missing.

Patricia Maybell though was oblivious to this fact, watching the building from across the street. Jane had contacted her a few days earlier, crying and terrified, telling her that Carlos was dead and El missing.

The young brunette knew she should have gone straight to the police who could have contacted the Special Forces or something similar.

But her deep distrust of everyone government-related, paired with the knowledge of a hell load of money just waiting to be transferred to her bank account, kept her at home.

Of course, she had been devastated by Carlos's brutal death. But, really, everyone had to die sooner or later.

And regarding El, well, the kid was just too naive. He had most likely just gotten scared and had taken off.

That was what she had told herself over the last few days. And she could have lived perfectly well, telling herself that for years to come.

But then she had seen the news. Had seen the report on a missing CBI consultant by the name of Patrick Jane.

It hadn't taken much to add one and one and get two. This man had been taken in her stead.

So, these criminals knew her name. Or at least part of it.

And as soon as this CBI guy was dead, they would realize they had gotten the wrong person.

They would come for her.

Now, this was something that did get her out of her house and in the car towards the CBI headquarters.

But how should she go on?

She couldn't very well walk in there and spill all she knew, because that would also mean giving up the information on the stash of money.

Maybe she could pretend to be a witness. Or she could just call it in anonymously.

Patricia's eyes fell on the front doors where a small dark haired woman just left the building together with an Asian looking man.

It took a moment to put the pictures together, but quickly she realized this had to be this agent something that had been shown on that news report.

She smiled a bit. Now she could just walk into the building and give her tip, knowing the lead agent wasn't there, and disappear again before anyone could ask tricky questions.

Thus decided, she started walking, eyes still focusing on the two agents.

So set was her mind that Patricia didn't even look where she was going.

Tires screeched, she gasped and everything went black for her.

/ ~~~~~~ \

Lisbon was walking towards her black SUV, Cho strolling behind her. The Asian had agreed to accompany her once more back to Jane's house, hoping against hope that it would turn up new traces.

Mostly, though, Cho came along to keep an eye on his boss. The disappearance of their friend and colleague had hit them all hard, but Lisbon was ready to climb the walls.

They had just reached the car when there was a screeching sound followed by startled cries of _oh my god _and _have you just seen that_.

Always the agent both started at the commotion before rushing over to see if they could help.

But when they arrived at the scene, already surrounded by curious bystanders, they quickly had to realize that all they could do was call the coroner.

A young woman of about twenty-five lay on the ground, her head turned unnaturally backwards, empty eyes staring into nothing.

Her business-looking clothes were rumpled around a well-kept body and long brown hair pooled around her head.

She had walked in front of a car, some people whispered.

The driver was among them staring silently in complete shock at the once pretty girl.

Lisbon sighed. She knew someone would have to call the woman's relatives. Knew the police would do so, but something irked her to know who this dead girl was.

Carefully slipping on her gloves, the agent fingered the hand bag that lay next to its owner.

But when she emptied its contents, they were far from what she would have expected.

A photo fell out of the bag. A photo showing a curly-haired blonde with an infectious smile. It was a picture taken from some news article with a red caption that read "Missing CBI consultant still not found".

And clipped to the photo was a slip of paper with only a few words scribbled on it.

"Eduardo LaCruz, Iquitos, Peru"


	4. Welcome to the green hell

**A/N: **Ah, dear! I am so very sorry. This has taken forever. My last year of school is keeping me incredibly busy and my muse seemingly went on vacation for while. Still, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it.

Oh, and since exams will start soon and stretch through the whole of November and December, I can't tell when the next chapter will be up. Sorry. But I will try to keep up the work, so you hopefully won't have to wait too long.

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**3. Welcome to the green hell**

With the adrenaline rush abating, sounds finally reached their ears again. Jane let himself sink down lower into the brush where he and Grey were hiding.

Trying to calm his gasping breath, much too easy to detect, the blonde let his senses expand. Humid air was pressuring heavily down on them, while a rich earthy smell killed any other, finer nuance. It wasn't silent in the thick green foliage they had found shelter in. In fact, the air buzzed with sounds, the consultant had only ever heard in documentaries.

Somewhere in an indiscernible distance apes were grunting, groaning and growling, but it was mixed with the humming of countless insects, screeching birds and the cracking of falling branches.

With a start, he realized that just maybe their situation had not improved at all.

Behind them lay a deadly bunch of ruthless human monsters, in front of them lay a merciless green hell.

They had fled a mobster's cave and had landed in the jungle, without food or drinkable water, without weapons, ropes or first aid stuff. And most of all, without hope for help.

"Puta madre!", El hissed, obviously making the same conclusions.

Jane tried to smile reassuringly, but failed miserably.

This wasn't just a case gone south, this was real trouble. And not even his quick-witted smart-mouthed brain could come up with any idea, how they could possibly survive this.

It seemed hopeless.

Patrick felt his breath quicken again, surged on by the knowledge that Lisbon, his all-time savior was hundreds of miles away.

_Get a grip, man!, _a voice ordered in his mind. _No one's gonna help you, but you self. Do something!_

He forced himself to take slow deep breathes; his eyes closed while he fought for concentration.

In the meantime, El was keeping quiet, snuggling up to an interwoven web of branches, his pupils dilated slightly, his skin pale.

When Jane opened his eyes again, he had been able to find as much equilibrium as possible.

His gaze fell on his younger companion and once more he realized that Grey was just a kid, thrown into a situation way over his head.

He would have to take the lead here; he would have to take care of them both, although his meager social skills had degenerated further during the last few years.

Still, he'd have to try.

And for a start, he should make sure LaCruz's lapdogs would come up empty in their search.

Right now they were too much like scared little rabbits waiting for the big bad Hunter's dachshunds to come and snap their necks.

No, Jane would prefer to be a fox, though hunted by a pack of hounds clever enough to outrun its pursuers.

He liked this image.

"El", he whispered, gaining a wide-eyed look in return.

"El, we must get moving, find a better hiding spot. Come on."

Thus said, the blonde crouched low, quickly deciding on a direction and slowly sneaking further into the undergrowth.

When they had dashed into the cover of the trees, they hadn't bothered to hide their traces. It would be easy for men grown up in this area to follow their obvious line of breadcrumbs. And Jane had no desire to put his life in the hand of hungry birds to evade the evil witch, or wizard in this case.

With a quick look back at the kid he made sure that the youngster followed.

Together they carefully crawled deeper into the jungle, accurately making sure to not leave any tell-tale traces and without making a sound.

In a snail's pace they got about twenty meters, before voices from behind caused their hearts to leap up into their throats. Patrick couldn't understand what was said, but he didn't need to.

All he needed to know was, should these voices' owners reach them, they would die a very slow and painful death.

Trying hard to quench all of these negative thoughts, the blonde crawled on, praying to gods he didn't believe in that they would get away.

Every rustle, every crack seemed to stop his heart and freeze him on the spot.

This was not how he had thought he'd die. Killed by some criminal, likely red John, yes, sure; killed by a mobster in the freaking jungle, never!

They crawled through the underbrush for what felt like forever, thorns and branches ripping their clothes and skin, leaving burning scratches and torn shreds.

Time lost its meaning. It just didn't matter anymore if they had been fleeing for ten minutes or ten hours. Their world had narrowed down to the next meter.

Indeed, unbeknownst to them hours went by that softly carried them deeper and deeper into the darkening green.

Slowly it started getting colder and with it the sounds of the jungle changed.

First, Jane didn't notice it, too set on getting away, but not even this situation could completely shut down the blonde's power of observation.

After what felt like ages, he finally stopped, breathing harshly and pressed to avoid being heard. El almost bumped into him.

The kid looked terrible. Dirt was covering almost every inch of his body, his once khaki colored pants hung in shreds and the formerly crème shirt was unrecognizable.

Wide tired eyes met and Jane tried to smile a bit, reassuring the scared boy next to him. He knew it wasn't even close to his usual charm, but it seemed to work nonetheless. Grey relaxed slightly, sinking back on the leave-covered forest floor.

Exhaustion was written clearly in every pained movement, but Patrick knew for a fact that he himself was most likely looking just as bad.

"We", the kid started, his voice hoarse, "we should-"

A deep breath.

"We should find shelter for the night", he finally pressed out.

Jane nodded slowly, realizing that it wouldn't be a good idea to stay like this throughout a darkness filled with predatory animals. God only knew what lived in these woods!

"Okay."

They nodded at each other once more, staying where they were for a moment longer, before Patrick decided that waiting wasn't going to help their situation.

From what he could hear, they had successfully gotten away from their human adversaries. So, now he could concentrate on evading the beastly ones.

Slowly, the blonde climbed to his feet, but hissed and fell back the moment he put weight on his ankle. _Dammit!_, he cursed mentally. In the heat of the situation he had managed to completely forget about the sprained appendage. At least he hoped it was only sprained.

For long moments he stayed put, hand gripping the throbbing limb and the world slowly dancing around him.

El watched warily from his position seated on the forest floor. His dark eyes wide with fear, but strangely devoid of the slightest hint of worry.

It struck the consultant as odd. But only a split second later, the cold-blooded gaze was gone, leaving only a scared boy in its place.

Had he just imagined it?

Possible, in his current state. Probable? Not so much.

Jane heaved a sigh, his glacier stare never leaving his companion. Just now he had realized that he knew practically nothing about the younger man. He had awakened in his company, had listened to his tale, but had Grey told the truth? Could he trust the young Hispanic?

After minutes of tense silence in which El had scooted closer, the deer-in-the-headlights-look now thoroughly attached, Patrick decided that at least for now he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Dismissing his nagging trust issues for the time being, Jane tried once more to slowly get up on his mangled feet.

Carefully, now fully expecting the onslaught of pain, he moved inch by inch. Still, when he set more pressure onto his ankle, the charge of agony sliced through him in all its vicious glory.

The blonde clenched his jaw, trying hard to suppress the tears of pain that threatened to betray his brave facade.

It took a felt eternity and not for the first time since this whole mess had started did Jane wonder if he had maybe died and this was hell. But moving at snail's pace, he finally managed to climb to his feet, though strongly favoring his right side to keep from infuriating his leg any more.

Thus accomplished, the consultant took a look around to have the first real view of their surroundings.

What he saw took his breath away for a second.

Green.

It was the dominating color, ranging from a poisonous looking neon green to deep dark olive tones.

The former distant shrieks of birds and other inhabitants of these lands now seemed to come from everywhere, as the thick heat of the day made way to a wet cold.

Humidity clung to everything and the giants of trees filtered the last rays of dusk, creating a surreal dance of light between the most exotic wildlife man had ever seen.

Everywhere there were huge trees with trunks thicker than some swimming pools. They were reaching so high up that from where he stood Jane couldn't make out the crown. It made him feel like an ant looking up to a human.

Plants covered everything, a variety of life, too much to name even half of it.

Taking it all it, Patrick Jane knew where they had fled to.

The Earth's Lung. The Tropical Rainforest.

Damn that was so not good!

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**A/N2: **"Puta madre" means (so an online dictionary) something like "Shit!".


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